As a kid, my birthday parties consisted of friends, games and a cake. I’m not sure what happened between my childhood and motherhood, but when my friend hired a party planner to throw an over-the-top fete for her 3-year-old, I was exposed to a whole new world.

I personally don’t think you need a lot of fuss when it comes to birthday parties — that it is possible to have fun and keep things affordable.

We have traditionally hosted at-home birthdays to keep the cost down but when my daughter was five, she begged to hold her party at our local gymnastics center. I found out we could rent the facility for an hour at a very minimal price and invite up to 25 kids.

Figuring we could get a lot of bang (and presents) for our buck, we invited the maximum.

Now, I am no stranger to event crisis management. I worked as a publicist for many years and was in charge of a city-wide celebration for Salt Lake City’s symphony hall. At the last minute, the symphony pulled out due to contract disputes. You know: the guests of honor. In a pinch, I got the world-famous Mormon Tabernacle Choir to perform.

A wee bit nerve-wracking? Hosting a party and entertaining 25 kids at an alternative venue was exponentially more ulcer-inducing.

I had rented out the gym for an hour and then planned to take the kids to the adjacent park outside to eat cake and play games for the second hour. The first glitch came immediately upon arrival when the normally vacant lawn area was flooded with beer-drinking, boom-box-toting revelers.

That was freak-out No. 1.

For those who want to keep track, just know this is the last time I will attempt to enumerate them all.

I sent The Husband on a mission to find an alternate venue and he ascertained the east playground was the next best alternative.

We turned our attentions to chaperoning the kids in the gym. I’ll admit I expected them to play tag, cautiously inch across the balance beam and sing Kumbaya. What I did not anticipate: Kids launching off the high bar. Scaling the rope swing to the ceiling. Attempting back flips off the vault.

If that was not stressful enough, the outside partiers descended upon our space to use the bathroom. A drunken woman even offered to escort one of the kids. At one point, a strange boy who has a future as a wedding crasher joined in the fun.

I was relieved when we moved outdoors but that’s when the party turned ugly. When we were in the gym, the children were in a contained space. Outside, they were free to roam and they did just that.

As we gathered around to sing “Happy Birthday” and cut the cake, I did a mental count and much to my horror discovered there were only 24 kids. After a frenzied search, we found the lost sheep playing in an obscure sandbox, blissfully unaware of my headless-chicken search.

Four years later, I can now look back at that party and laugh. Really, when you think about it, losing one out of 25 ain’t bad.

Mexican restaurant Casa Bonita has been a memory-making institution for decades, filling children with countless sopapillas and dreams of plummeting from the top of a man-made, three-story indoor waterfall while people eat tacos, listen to Mariachi music and watch puppet shows around them.